Secrets

My head is full of tiny little scecrets

All running round in there

Little things that people tell me

Little things I cannot share

I smile and dance the secret dance

As they crash around in there

Bouncing off my brains

And tickling the roots of my hair

Sometimes it gets so full

I wish that I could share

Spilling some of the things that I know

As if I didn’t care

Links?

Anyone have any good links from other writer's blogs?
I am trying to keep this place up to date and interesting.
Plus, I might want to do some reading !!!!

Send me your links.

It feels good

It felt good to write again.
To reach deep down inside and write what I have kept bouncing around in my brain.

I have started another story that I have outlined and thought about for at least five years.
It will probably come in parts.
I know how it starts, but not necessarily how it ends.

Most of what I have going on in my head are stories or scenes that introduce or explain characters. Bigger and more complex plots may have to come later. I was never any good at them.

Just keep the words coming....

Evil Doesn't Tip

A long time ago I used to write or at least attempt to write short stories. My goal was to maybe one day write a novel of some sort. I don’t do well with reality so I mainly tried my hand at fantasy or science fiction of some sort.

In fact, the name of this blog comes from an idea I had for a series of short stories based around a couple of characters.

The Savage Garden was a world much like our own. The only difference was that the shadows were a little longer, the nights a bit darker, and fears were much more real.

Kind of an X-Files meets Dark Shadows or something. A normal world with a hidden undercurrent of magic and evil.

I couldn’t find the original story I wanted, so I had to rewrite it from memory. Please be kind.

My memory is not what is used to be and my mastery of the words if far from what it once was.

Evil Doesn't Tip

Poetry again, kinda

I was listening to this Concrete Blonde song last night and it made me think of my father's situation.

It is complete now the two ends of time are neatly tied
A one-way street, she's walking to end of the line
And there she meets the faces she keeps in her heart and mind

They say 'good bye' Tomorrow, Wendy, is going to die,
They say 'good bye' Tomorrow, Wendy, is going to die,

Underneath the chilly gray November sky
We can make believe that Kennedy is still alive and
Were shooting for the moon and smiling Jackie's driving by and

They say 'good try'
Tomorrow Wendy is going to die
Tomorrow Wendy is going to die

I told the priest, Don't count on any second coming
God got his ass kicked the first time he came down here slumming
He had the balls to come, the gall to die and then forgive us
No, I don't wonder why, I wonder what he thought it would get us
Hey, hey, good bye
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die

Hey, hey, good bye
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die

Only God says jump
So I set the time
'Cause if he ever saw her
It was through these eyes of mine!
And if he ever suffered it was me who did his crying

Hey hey, good bye
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die
(Tomorrow Wendy's going to die)
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die
(Tomorrow Wendy's going to die)
Tomorrow Wendy'd going to die

Hey, hey, good bye
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die

Hey, hey, good bye
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die
Tomorrow Wendy's going to die
Tomorrow Wendys going to die


I wish I could put words together like that again.
I know I keep saying I am going to try, but I just can't seem to reach inside and find them.

Me

Once around here I mentioned the three me.

The Work Me
The Home Me
The Me Me

They all go together in a strange way to make the One Me.
I don't have complete control over the Home Me. That one is hard to swallow. As a husband and father I am expected to do and act certain ways. I do step outside the bounds, but not far. In some ways, the Home me is the most disappointing aspect of me. Sometimes I worry that this part will smother out the other two.

The Work me is a strange mixture of the Home Me and Me Me. Responsibility and a small dose of crazy go a long way. This is the middle ground of self control. Work me is predestined to do things, but the work me also really steps outside the lines at times. Best of all, no one at home sees the work me.

The Me Me is the part that is all me. I control it. It controls me. No one gets to peer too long and hard at the Me Me because most of it private, secret, hidden.

I answered on a blog recently about the things I feel in control of. I am in control of the Me Me. It is the only thing that i have complete control over.

One Liners

I don't think I can write a whole poem any more.
Hell, the ones I did write weren't that good.

How about one line?

"Sewage headed chimps romping in my brain"

Not good, but the first creative thing I have tried in ages.

Back

I have been on a vacation of sorts.

My father's cancer is terminal. He is suffering from pneumonia again.
The guy isn't ready to go, but doesn't have a lot of choice these days.

It is tough helping him out and taking care of mom. She isn't dealing well with the stress, but then again none of us are.

I won't even touch my job. That isn't stress, but pure hell instead.

I haven't even been blogging much.

I met my English teacher from high school (9th grade) the other day. Actually I didn't meet her, I ran into her. We talked for a moment and she told her companion that I was a former student and a poet. I nearly fainted. I haven't written a poem in 12 years.
What really embarassed me was when she asked if I was still writing.

Damn it.

I am a slacker

Oh Shit, Here We Go Again

This is the beginning of a vicious cycle that I hate.
Everything is good.
I am happy.
Life is grand.

THEN WHAM!!!
It hits.

This has to be depression or something close.

I start with the mental Blah's.
Then the physical part starts
Tired.
Wiped out.
Restless.

Then the mental part gets worse.

You would think that my life is full of crap and horrible things, but it isn't.

Just cruising along and enjoying a few weeks of normalcy and then this hits for no reason.

The thing that gets me is the physical part.
Being so drained that I can fall asleep sitting up in a chair.

It is hard to force the brain into happy mode when the body feels like it has been pummeled.
Pummeled hard.